When he finally spins to face Edwin, tray in his hand like some sort of weapon, the only sound I hear is that of my heart pounding in my ears before my vision goes dark.

My eyes are squeezed shut behind my palms which are slightly cupped over each closed eyelid. The pounding in my ears reduces and I don't hear any other sounds. I part my hands slowly and bring them back to my face almost immediately, afraid and excited for what will happen next.

Peeping through my fingers, I prepare myself for the big, bad, bloody fight I expect to breakout. It doesn't. A few seconds pass. Nothing happens; my hands lower to my laps. The few heads that turned to watch us resume their meals. Their disappointment is the same as mine, it is palpable.

Edwin is still pissed; his hands are now balled into a fist at his side but he doesn't throw the first punch. Sadly, no one throws any punches. The waiter's poker face is good, I cannot decipher what he--if, he feels anything. And I am afraid that after today, he will no longer be working tables here. Edwin will make sure of that.

After what feels like hours, when in truth, less than five minutes have passed, the waiter breaks the stare-off. I have a feeling that he can go longer if he chooses to but he has a job to do. A job that will not last long.

With the tray now pressed to his chest, he says, "Sir, I will not have you harassing me." He speaks slowly like Edwin is a child who has trouble understanding English. He lets out a deep breath, "I would like to attend to other customers now. Thank you."

The last bit is said mockingly as if he is daring Edwin to do or say something wrong so they can have a real fight that I am sure he will win. A secret part of me still hopes for a fight but I am happy that he is being the bigger person among the two of them.

Edwin sits down wordlessly and I imagine his next line of action will be to 'have a talk' with the manager. Edwin is not a bad person; he is just not used to being disobeyed.

"I don't want to see your face again till we leave," Edwin says to the waiter -who is one step away from our table- when he regains his composure. I know what that is.

It's a sorry attempt at showing that he isn't ruffled by the waiter's behaviour. But I know better; I've known him for two years.

The waiter is a troublemaker or he also isn't used to being talked back at because he halts, spins to face Edwin for the second time in ten minutes. My admiration triples.

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't want to see your face as much as you don't want to see mine," he pauses briefly, "I have other customers to attend to. On that note ..."

As if replying Edwin is not enough, he sends a wink in my direction before taking his leave and I have a hard time wiping the grin off my face. He's bold, I like that.

His last words breeze through my mind and I laugh; I love this guy. He just did what I will like to call, Polite Murder and I know a few people who will gladly part with a few nairas to watch it happen again.

A glance at Edwin and all traces of laughter disappear from my face. If he is pissed from their earlier altercation, I have no words to describe his anger now. I clear my throat, uncomfortable under his accusatory gaze and dive into my food, happy to focus my attention on something else.

The numerous flavours present in the purple rice causes my taste bud to explode and I moan with my eyes closed, shaking my head from side to side. At this point, I can as well be a judge at a food competition, sampling the meal that I know will win the show. This is it, heaven on earth.

"Let's go." Edwin's voice jolts me, my eyes part slowly to see if he's joking. He's not.

"I just started eating," I say while struggling to strip the skin off the chicken with my cutlery, careful not to stain my shirt.

He stands up and from the look in his eyes, he expects me to do the same. "I don't care."

Ouch!

Maybe it's the waiter's prior attitude that lends me courage or the thought of leaving this delicious meal behind. "Well then, bye-bye. Make sure to pay for the meal before you leave. I will tell the sexy waiter to pack yours so you can take it away," I add the last part to annoy him and it works.

He slams a few naira notes on the table, grabs his phone, car keys and walks out. My eyes follow him until his car disappear, at least the waiter's job is safe for today.

My gaze returns to the meal in front of me, I sigh. What kind of man leaves his woman on a date? No one but my loving boyfriend.

I drop my cutlery on the tray, tired of struggling with the chicken and reach for the bowl of water on the table that has probably been kept for my next agenda. I rinse my hands, grab the fried chicken in my plate to devour it. Midbite into it and I can swear that the chicken tastes better than it did before. When I am done with mine, I proceed to do the same to Edwin's.

Might as well eat his money's worth.

*   *   *

The office is quiet and it is all thanks to the fact that Mrs Nse is not around. My hp laptop is open in front of me, a list of possible clients staring right back at me. My phone rings, without taking a look at it, I know who is calling. Edwin. I do not pick.

He has been calling since the event at the restaurant, no, two days after the incident and I have not picked nor returned any of his missed calls that are accompanied by desperate texts that evoke little or no reaction from me. I don't know how I feel.

But I cannot seem to get over the fact that he left me there. That it took two days for him to get over his anger before caring to know if I got home safe, sound or in one piece. I need this break from him to figure things out and I know that if I pick, he might convince me to do otherwise.

The door opens and my Boss, Mr Adams walks in. I stand up. "Good day Sir."

"Good day," he responds with a smile and I have a hard time keeping a straight face.

This is the man who gave me piggyback rides as a child, bought my favourite flavoured ice-cream. Offered to let me stay in his house when I packed my belongings in a moment of childish rage after being scolded for doing the wrong thing.

"How are you?" I nod my head, unable to voice out a response. I really want to laugh but he's my boss and there's nothing funny. "Are you standing because of me?" he asks when he notices my position and I shake my head; he sighs. "Please sit down."

He fights back a smile when I laugh. Then he leans over till his fingers are resting on my desk, all playfulness in his eyes gone.

"There's a new hotel I want you to check out. We recently acquired it, it's not even two months old yet. We need someone to supervise it until we get a new manager."

"What about Mr King? Or Mr Wole?" I interrupt, they are better than me and also have more work experience.

"Oh. They can't go," he responds vaguely. "I want you to go if you don't mind; it won't be for long. We just need to finalize a few things." He straightens himself up.

"Or you can't handle the workload I am about to give you?" he teases then goes on to add, "besides you need a break from all these people." His fingers point in the direction of Mrs Nse's seat as he says the last part and it earns a laugh from me.

It is good to know that he is aware of the things that go on in his company. I doubt much escapes him, the wall does have ears.

"Yes, I can handle it; I also need a change of environment," I say. As the words leave my lips, I realise how true they are. "Thank you for putting so much trust in me."

The fact that he considers me for this new role makes me feel good. On top of that, I will not be seeing King's evil face for a long while and will also get an office to myself.

"Thank you too, you deserve it." A smile flits to his lips. "I will email you details about everything you need to know." I nod. "If you have any more questions, let me know."

Without thinking twice, I walk around my desk to pull him into a hug, sighing in contentment as he wraps his arms around me. The reminder that will I be answerable to nobody makes me squeeze him harder.

Long after Mr Adams is gone, I gaze longingly at the door until Mrs Nse steps in with a scowl on her face; I cannot remember her ever smiling. I focus on my laptop which comes to life when I tap it and I see that Mr Adams has sent the email.

The time shows that I still have a few hours until close of work but who cares. I pack my things, strut to Mrs Nse table and blow her a kiss. Her expression of shock mixed with surprise is the only memory I want to have of our time here together.

*   *   *

A group of regulars are bent over carefully prepared meals; their lips move as they munch on the tasteful delicacies in front of them. I inhale the aroma that is floating in the air. It is almost as satisfying as eating the meal and I forget for a moment that I have not made my order.

The restaurant is abuzz with conversations and laughter; everyone is paired except me. My attention is somewhere else; outside.

Outside, a pot-bellied young man dressed in a white shirt and black trouser with his tie hanging past his belt picks at his nose, he gazes at the booger like he's surprised that it has come from him. His eyes dart left, right and centre, when he's certain that no one is looking, he throws the booger in his mouth and walks away. I shudder.

"Miss?" I look up to see a waiter at my table with his hands behind his back, he is smiling at me. "Are you ready to order?"

Today is my first time of coming here without Edwin and the outside world seems to hold more fascination than the inside.

"Miss?" He calls again and my gaze shifts from the distracting window to his face.

"Yes." I clear my throat awkwardly. "I am looking for a colleague of yours. He's new, tall, dark-skinned," I raise my hand to the lower part of my face, "he has a full goatee."

The waiter looks at me strangely; I also find it odd that I can remember all that about him. After a while, he asks, "Paul?"

"I think; I don't know his name. Can you please call him for me?" He nods. "Thanks."

Paul? Even the heavens think we are a match. Paul and Pauline.

Shortly after he leaves, Paul comes to my table with his usual poker face. "Yes?" He is not wearing his uniform and he looks somewhat irritated. "You asked for me?"

"Paul?" I want to be sure I have been given the right name; he nods a little at that.

Now that he is here, I don't know what to say, our conversation had played out better in my mind. With a lot of jokes and smiles.

"How are you?" I ask foolishly.

He raises an eyebrow, his mask cracks for the tiniest second and his stance becomes relaxed. "Very well Ma'am. How do you do?"

"Great. My name is Pauline, not ma'am," I add with a small laugh.

"Pauline," he mutters; I like the way it rolls off his tongue, I want him to say it again.

Say my name baby.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, waiting for one of us to break the silence.

"May I take your order?" He finally asks and I am filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. The staring had made me uneasy.

"Yes." I nod twice. "Yes, please."

He scribbles something down on a writing pad he retrieves from his back pocket and I try to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"When does your shift end?"

"It has ended. I was about leaving when Idem called me."

"Oh." My teeth sink into my lower lips, his eyes follow my movement and a smirk crosses his face. He's really handsome. "I am so sorry; I didn't know that."

He shrugs, probably already tired of my company. "I feel bad. I will buy you a drink."

"No, I'm good," he says while shaking his head.

"I insist," I add with a charming smile.

He says nothing, leaves, returns with my food on a tray and is about to leave for the second time when I stop him.

"Please join me," my fingers slightly caress his hand, "I am celebrating a promotion."

His lips move but I do not hear one word he says. He proceeds to take a seat in front of me and I smile so much, he's forced to offer me a small smile of his own.

"So ... What will you like to drink?"

"A bottle of Heineken. I will go get it myself."

I shake my head; I don't want him going to get the drinks himself. He might not return.

"Trust me, I will be back," he says as if reading my mind. Maybe it's the way he says it but I believe him. Since my mouth is full, I nod and he disappears.

Five minutes after I am done with my meal, Paul is yet to return. I look around, tapping my foot to the ground. When Idem tries to walk past me, a stack of plates in his hand, I stop him with my hand around his wrist.

"Hey," I start with a smile, "where's Paul? I have been waiting for him."

"Paul? I think he left about 15 minutes ago."

**********

I imagine Mawuli Gavor as Paul. I started having a crush on him since I watched Chief daddy.

Picture: Mawuli Gavor

PS: I have had this story on my wattpad account for over two years or thereabout. I already had chapter 1 to 12 written out which I'm in the process of editing. I don't know how long or short it will be but I hope I'm able to do a splendid job.

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